


saw your face and got inspired

by kissteethstainred



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cheese, Fluff, M/M, Trains, more like the Metro but, they're in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 07:53:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7039435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissteethstainred/pseuds/kissteethstainred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monty and Miller take the same train to and from the city every day (Monty may or may not have a crush).</p>
            </blockquote>





	saw your face and got inspired

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when i go anywhere: i make a fic out of it. in this case, i was on the metro on the way to a college and this came to me. very cheesy and cute! monty & miller are in love
> 
> also: when/if it's not specifically stated, miller bottoms. miller always bottoms. this is very important to me + nathan miller, and very important to this fic. to EVERY fic. miller bottoms. thank you for your time, hope you enjoy!

When Monty enters the train car, he finds his usual partner sitting in the back corner.

He enters the car and takes the seat on the opposite side of the car, but he’s at a distance where he could watch the guy if need be. Not that he does need to. And it doesn’t really matter, anyways, since he’s taking out his lecture notes to study on the way to the university.

Monty always enters the metro after his partner and always gets off before his partner. Whatever his partner does, it’s probably deeper in the city; Monty gets off at the university exit so he can head to classes. Jasper always complains that Monty lives too far away, but Monty’s much happier in his apartment with Raven than in the ( _ _very__ ) crowded housing that Jasper shares with about fifteen other people. 

The lady over the intercom announces that Dropship Station is the next stop, so Monty shuffles his lecture notes into some semblance of order and shoves them back into his book. Jasper and Harper have texted him, Jasper asking if he’s willing to meet up for lunch and Harper asking how soon he’ll be on campus.

He replies to both of them (a _sure_ for Jasper and a _literally 5 min away_ to Harper), and when the metro car arrives at Dropship Station, he exits.

\--

Not that the dude, whatever his name is, _knows_ that he’s Monty’s partner, but he and Monty take the same metro trains into the city in the morning and back from the city at night. Monty had noticed him once or twice, only because a) it’s boring on the metro, and you notice people who are on it the same time as you (especially multiple times) and b) this dude was very attractive indeed. 

Weeks passed, and Monty noticed that this guy generally frequented the third metro car down, and once he put this hypothesis into experimentation, he found that this dude only ever takes the third metro car. He’ll take the other cars if it’s busy and crowded, but otherwise he sticks to the third car.

Monty’s not saying he sticks to the third car as well so that he can see the attractive dude every day, but—

\--

Monty misses his partner that ride back, but he sees him the next morning.

This time, he’s seated on one of the closer chairs, the ones that sit parallel to the metro car’s walls, and Monty sits in the seat opposite him just because the seat is open and he might as _well_. 

To his surprise, the guy looks up him. He takes in Monty’s beanie—which Monty won’t feel insecure about, his ears get cold easily—and smiles. 

“Good morning,” he says. Monty likes his voice, smooth and quiet, but sure. 

Monty can’t really hold back his surprise, but he returns the smile and repeats, “Good morning.”

After that, the guy returns to his phone, and Monty thinks about the conversation for the rest of the day.

\--

Coming home that night is rough. Raven called him to say that the plumbing has gone out and he already has so much work to do, but the ride home is calming. Monty puts in his headphones and pulls out his phone to play Sudoku, because games and math always helps him calm down. When he sits down, he’s so entranced in his music and focused on sitting down and resting that he completely misses the fact that he walked by his partner.

And he doesn’t realize it until, three minutes into his game, the guy leans down and says something. Monty’s music is too loud, but he yanks out an earbud and says, “Sorry?”

A small smile is on the guy’s lips. “A nine goes in the center of the far right corner,” he tells Monty, gesturing to the Sudoku game on Monty’s phone. “And the seven should go in the fourth column, fifth square down.” 

Monty raises an eyebrow at him and follows his instructions. The squares light up green, telling him he’s gotten it correctly, and more points are added to his score. Monty looks back up at the guy and says, “Thank you.”

The metro car jostles them a little roughly, and the guy tightens his grip on the pole he’s holding onto. He’s looking at Monty in a way that’s familiar, as if they’re already friends and not strangers that see each other daily. 

“No problem,” he says, and continues to help Monty with his game until Monty has to leave.

\--

Monty enters the metro car with a giant cup of coffee steaming in his hands, and he practically trips over himself getting into his seat. He drops his bag in the seat next to him and sprawls his legs out over the aisle, resting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. He’s so fucking tired, but his essay is _done_ (and possibly actually worth a good grade) and Harper had promised to buy him his favorite donuts from one of the student cafes. 

“Rough night?” a voice says next to him.

Monty peeks an eye open and sees his partner sitting at the aisle across from him, a backpack lying in his lap.

“That obvious?” 

“You mean, besides your body posture screaming exhaustion, you practically napping in the chair, and your gigantic cup of coffee?” 

Monty smiles. He sits up further in his chair and eyes his coffee. “I did ask for the biggest coffee cup they had,” he says. 

The guy smiles. It’s a soft smile, like he doesn’t usually smile often, but it’s sweet when he does. “Well, is that big-ass enough for you?”

“Not nearly,” Monty says, fighting the urge to laugh. He takes a sip, almost burns his tongue, and sighs. “I just need to make it through the day.”

The guy makes a sympathetic noise. “Oh, man, I feel you. Definitely had those days before. I think I’ve had those days every day this week.” 

Monty laughs. “What is it that you do? That makes your week so exhausting,” he adds. He’s noticed that the guy wears usually business casual clothes.

“I’m the Head of Communications for a designing company,” the guy says. 

“Oh, wow. That does sound exhausting,” Monty says. The guy raises his eyebrows, and Monty adds, “Well, I don’t know anything about communications or heading a department, but it sounds exhausting.”

“It is, but this week has been wild, especially since Bellamy—my, uh, boss and best friend—has been away on a conference, so . . . just generally hectic.”

“Wait, Bellamy? As in Bellamy _Blake_? You work for Blake Designs?”

“You know them?”

“Uh, doesn’t everyone in Arkadia know who the Blakes are? They’re the biggest success story _around_.” 

The guy shrugs, a small smile on his face. “I’ve been with Bellamy and Octavia throughout the whole thing, so I just feel brotherly pride, you know?” The guy shifts to let two young women pass by them. “What about you? What do you study?”

“Study?” Monty smiles, takes a small sip of his coffee. It’s the perfect temperature now. “Is it that obvious I’m a college student?”

The guy laughs. “That, and your Arkadia University sweatshirt.” 

Monty glances down, sees his sweatshirt, and can feel himself flush. “Yes, I go there. And I study engineering, minor in botany.”

“Oh?” the guy says with a tilt of his head. “Highly intelligent, I see.”

Monty’s flush doesn’t lessen because of those words. “I’m just . . .” He shakes his head, then shrugs.

“Humble as well,” the guy notes. “It’s fine. How are you liking Arkadia U? I had a great time there.”

“You went to Arkadia University?”

“Graduated three years ago.” His mouth twists into an ironic smile. “ _Go Delinquents_.” 

Monty laughs; the official mascot of Arkadia University are the Warriors, but they’re called the Delinquents by rival schools. The students embrace the name and proudly call themselves that.

“What’d you study?”

“English, minor in communications.” He laughs. “If my best friend wasn’t the head of the company, I probably wouldn’t have as high of a title as I do.” 

Monty goes to reply, but the metro arrives at the university station, so Monty says goodbye to the guy with a smile on his face, steps onto the platform, and realizes:

He didn’t even find out the guy’s name.

\--

Monty finds him on the way back, and he isn’t shy about talking to him; he sits in front of the guy and says, “Monty.”

The guy takes an earbud out of his ear. “What?”

“My name. It’s Monty Green. I figured, since we’re always seeing each other and talking to each other, that we might as well know each other’s name.” The guy raises an eyebrow. “Unless you want to remain strangers, which of course I’ll—”

“Miller,” the guy interrupts. “That’s my name.”

“Just Miller?” 

“I have a first name, I just don’t really go by it.” 

“Oh, you’re one of those cool kids who go by their last names, aren’t you? I bet you played football in high school.”

“I won’t be stereotyped like this,” Miller says, which just makes Monty laugh. 

“Am I wrong?”

“No, and I even played it in college. Got injured my sophomore year and just focused on the academics.” Miller stretches a little in his seat, spreading his legs further. Monty forces himself not to stare. “But what about you? You’re interested in plants and your last name is Green.”

“That’s just wonderful coincidence, not a stereotype,” Monty says. “One day I hope to teach botany at a college so I can introduce myself as Professor Green and watch everyone lose it.”

“Mostly you just sound like a character from Clue,” Miller says. “Or someone who smokes weed every day.”

“The smoking weed thing was in high school,” Monty says, and Miller laughs.

“Only high school?”

Monty glares at him. “And only on extremely stressful days in college. Sorry that you’re an official adult and can’t enjoy the good things in life.” 

“Well, official adulthood is coming for you,” Miller says, a smile fighting to make its way on his face. “You’re—what year are you in?”

“Junior.”

“Coming for you very soon, then.”

“That’s so ominous, considering that you’ve done pretty well.”

“Do I need to remind you of the nepotism? The big boss is my best friend.” The train car rattles to a stop, and Miller points. “Isn’t this your stop?”

Monty can hear Miller laughing behind him as Monty rushes out of the train car, exclaiming, “Oh shit!”

\--

Raven doesn’t stop laughing for about five minutes.

“Raven! Shut up, it’s not funny.”

She gives him a _look_ and then bursts out laughing again. “Okay, I’m sorry, it’s just—you have a sugar daddy.”

“I do not— _Raven!_ ” 

This is what happens on their usual Saturday nights together when they don’t have plans. Not the sugar daddy part, just the cuddling on the couch and drinking alcohol—usually wine, to make themselves feel fancier—and talk about their lives or watch crime dramas. Monty had made the mistake of telling Raven about his massive crush on Miller, and after some inquiring about his age and wealth status, she said Monty had a sugar daddy. 

“Raven! He’s only three years older than me, that doesn’t qualify sugar daddy status.” 

“Older than you? Check. Significantly wealthier than you? Check. Handsome as hell? From your reports, that’s a yes. And he buys you things. He’s reached sugar daddy status.”

“This is why we never have red wine,” Monty says. “He bought me a coffee a couple days ago because he always sees me with them! Those aren’t Tiffany Diamonds.”

Raven shakes her head at him, raising her wine glass in the air. A little sloshes over the edge. “First step is coffee, then something pricier and pricier and pricier until they’re Tiffany Diamonds. You better get _in that_.”

Monty flushes. “It’s not for lack of trying! But we see each other on a train daily, that makes it harder.”

Raven shrugs. “Go to school in that crop top you own, put a zip-up jacket over it, and those pants that make your legs look nice. Trust me. He’ll be all over you. Tiffany Diamonds will raaaaain.” 

The worst part is, that’s better than the plans Monty already has. He sighs and watches the crime drama in front of him—some model is dead on the catwalk, and the cops are going through the backstage area, interviewing all the other models. 

“How’s your love life going, by the way?”

“I mean, I’m getting laid more than you, but I don’t have a sugar daddy yet.”

“I don’t have a sugar daddy!”

“That’s why I said _yet_.”

\--

Monty wakes up in the morning with text messages from Harper.

****From Harper:** **

monty???????  
why is raven texting me about  
your sugar daddy???

****From Harper:** **

was she drunk??

****From Harper:** **

sorry, monroe just corrected  
me on my previous question.  
DO you have a sugar  
daddy?????????????????  


Monty, who has not only woken up to Harper’s texts but also a raging headache, a dry mouth, and a growling stomach, groans and yells, “ _RAVEN!_ ”

That morning, when he gets on the train and sees Miller, he blushes furiously.

Miller raises an eyebrow, but Monty shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

“If you say so,” Miller says.

\--

A couple days later, the ride home is crowded. There’s a professional football game in Arkadia, and the stadium is close enough that people use the metro to get there. It’s crowded and messy and annoying, but Monty grits his teeth and pushes his way inside. 

He manages to clinch a seat, and at the next stop, he sees Miller make his way over to Monty’s section. He must’ve been on the other side of the car, and watching him weave his way through the people makes Monty smile.

There’s no room to sit, but he holds onto the pole by Monty’s seat and smiles at him.

“Busy day today, don’t you think?” Monty says.

Miller looks around at all the people on the train, most of whom have jerseys and face paint on. “It’s always bound to happen,” he says. “I just want to yell at them to get out of my city.”

Monty says, “But at least it’s an experience.”

“Oh, god, an ‘ _experience_ ’? You’re one of those glass half-full people, aren’t you?”

“And you’re glass half empty. We make a full glass. It’s why we fit so well together.” Monty freezes once the words are out of his mouth, but Miller gives him a long, slow smile. It’s not disagreement, Monty thinks, and his stomach flutters. 

At the next stop, a pregnant woman enters the car. Monty quickly offers her his seat, and she takes it gratefully, thanking him as she sits. Monty stands next to Miller, Miller’s hands above his on the pole. If Monty was brave enough, he’d put his hand on top of Miller’s—on accident, of course—but he doesn’t actually have as much game as Raven hopes he does. 

It doesn’t actually matter much. There are so many people that everyone standing is crowded together, almost uncomfortably pressed against each other in some places. The train jostles and Monty pitches forward slightly; he manages to catch himself, but not before he’s pushed closer to Miller.

Miller doesn’t even move back, just watches Monty with a curl of amusement on his mouth. “So,” he says, and his tone is warm and flirtatious. “Do enough engineering today? Some good plant stuff?”

Monty’s breath catches in his throat. “Yes,” he says, after clearing his throat. “Some—some very good plant stuff. They’re growing and all. These plants.” Miller’s smile grows even more, which is really unfair—Monty should only be this close to him if they’re kissing. “And you?” Monty adds. “Do any good, um, head stuff?”

“ _Head stuff_?” Miller repeats. “You’ll have to clarify. I enjoy many different types of head stuff.”

Monty feels himself flush, and his entire stomach turns to warmth at Miller’s low tone. They’re too close and it’s too warm in this train car and Monty is sweating.

“Head of communications stuff,” Monty clarifies.

Miller smiles. “It’s alright,” he says. “Not nearly as fun as the other head stuff.”

Monty shakes his head at Miller. “You’re horrible,” he says. “Other people can probably _hear_ you.” 

Miller grins, probably about to throw another retort at Monty that Monty’s not prepared for, when the train car lurches again. Monty trips forward, tightening his grip on the bar, and he’s basically thrown into Miller. Miller’s hand shoots out to Monty’s waist to steady Monty, and Monty rushes out a quick, “Thanks.”

They’re very close together. They’re about the same height, but Monty can see that Miller has one or two inches on him. Neither of them move away, and Miller keeps his hand on Monty’s waist. 

“You’re welcome,” Miller says, and he doesn’t even have to speak that loudly. Whatever he has to say is for them only.

Monty wonders if anyone is looking at them and decides he doesn’t care. 

Miller’s hand is still on his waist, so he tentatively puts his fingers over Miller’s on the pole. Miller glances over at them and then returns his gaze to Monty. This close, Monty can see a faint dusting of pink on Miller’s cheeks. 

“So,” Miller says. “Your, um, plants.”

\--

A couple days after the train being stuffed, where most of their interactions are filled with bad flirting, good flirting, and blushing, Monty gets on the train to see that Miller—well, he does _not_ look happy. 

Monty sits down next to him and says, “Is everything okay?”

Miller makes a very frustrated noise in response and leaves it at that.

“Bad day at work?” Monty asks.

“Bad day in general. You probably don’t want to hang around me right now.”

Monty can hear the dismissal in Miller’s tone—or, more accurately, the obvious invitation to leave—but Monty doesn’t really leave his friends when they’re upset. 

Monty says tentatively, “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Miller raises an eyebrow at him. “What are you offering?” 

Monty socks him in the arm. “The most I’ll offer you is a drink,” he says. “A beer or two? On me. I’m sure alcohol would help you.”

Miller considers him for a moment, then says, “Yeah, alright. You good with coming down towards me? I know a good place.”

Monty says, “Okay, let me text my roommate.”

****To Raven:** **

going to get drinks, will  
be home late tonight!

****From Raven:** **

drinks w/ who????

****To Raven:** **

. . . . . . 

****From Raven:** **

am i a bad friend if i  
encourage you NOT to  
come home tonight?  


The place Miller takes him to is called _Grounders_ , and, according to Miller, takes a new meaning on the term “underground place” from the name alone. It really is a hole in the wall, but the food—burgers, sandwiches, ribs, wings, bottomless fries—is fucking delicious. Monty’s full from the wings and fries that Miller buys, a compensation for the beers that Monty buys them both.

Miller narrows his eyes at Monty when they’re at the bar and says, “Are you even legal?” 

“I turned twenty-one this last September, so yes. Get us a seat and I’ll get you a drink.”

After the first drink and bites of food, Miller is considerably happier. He thanks Monty and says that this probably wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“It was worth it,” Monty says. “I didn’t like seeing you so upset, and you tried to push me away. First rule about Monty Green: I don’t like being pushed away.” 

“No?”

“My friend Jasper tried it on me once or twice”—or multiple times—“and trust me, it never ended well for him.”

Miller smiles at him. “I have a feeling you may be lighter on me.”

“There’s no room for feelings in this, Miller,” Monty says. “Only cold hard revenge.”

Miller shakes his head with dramatic effort. “College coursework has changed you. You’re no longer the man I used to know.”

Monty laughs. “I don't think it matters, does it? You should be used to grumpiness, considering . . .” Monty gestures at Miller.

Miller laughs. “Drink your fucking beer, Monty.” Monty does, smiling into the lip of the glass. 

Monty asks after Miller’s time at the university, and eventually they begin exchanging stories and anecdotes about their various university experiences. Miller’s stories are funnier, since he and Bellamy were always getting up to shit, but Monty’s high school experience seems to have been just as fun as Miller’s. They were both involved in getting high and criminal activities, so they bond over that shared experience. 

They stop drinking after the first beer, switching to water as they finish off a basket of fries. Monty’s full from the food and drink, and after Miller offers to refill the basket of fries (“ _Bottomless_ ,” Miller had emphasized), Monty glances at the clock on this phone (it’s nearing ten-thirty) and says, “I should probably be heading back.”

Miller shrugs and drops some money on the table as their payment before standing. He and Monty walk out together, shoulders brushing, and Monty shivers. It’s colder outside, and Monty burrows his hands in his pockets. 

“Well, tonight was awesome,” Monty says with a smile, “and we should definitely do it again, even when you’re not upset.” He points in the direction they came. “That’s back to the metro, right?”

Miller nods. “It is,” he says slowly, “but . . . my apartment is closer.”

Monty shivers again, but it’s no longer from the cold. 

“If I say yes, it’s on one condition only,” Monty says.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

Monty takes his hand out of his pocket and holds it out to Miller. “Keep my hand warm on the way there?” 

Miller smiles, warm and soft. He takes Monty’s hand in his, links their fingers together, and then sticks them in his coat pocket. “I can’t do much about your other hand,” Miller says, but Monty doesn’t care. He presses against Miller and walks in whatever direction Miller drags him.

When they get to Miller’s apartment, Miller doesn’t have to relinquish Monty’s hand to dig his apartment keys out, so Monty stays close to Miller’s back for warmth as he opens the door. 

They walk inside together, Miller locking the door behind him, and Monty doesn’t hesitate to draw Miller in with their intertwined hands and kiss him. Miller immediately responds and kisses back fiercely, his arm wrapping around Monty’s waist and pulling him close. His mouth is much warmer than the outside air was, and Monty feels comfortable and like he’s floating, like he could kiss Miller forever.

Miller pulls back and says, voice rough, “We’re both on the same page, right?”

Monty kisses him again, this time rougher, with a little more bite, and grinds up against Miller’s thigh. Miller groans into his mouth and says, “Alright, _alright_. Bedroom. Nathan.”

Monty, who apparently is much better at kissing and moving at the same time, pulls back in confusion. “What?”

“My name. Or my first name, whatever. It’s Nathan. I thought—since we’re about to—” Miller’s broken off by another kiss. 

Monty grabs Miller’s coat and pulls him in the direction of the bedroom. In the morning, Monty thinks, he'll appreciate the intimacy about Miller telling his first name; for now, he can only focus on Miller’s mouth and the desire coursing through him. “God, get __undressed__ already.” 

Miller groans again when Monty adds on a, “ _Nathan_.”

\--

Monty wakes up to the feeling of Miller’s mouth on his shoulder. Monty wouldn’t even count it as kissing—more like mouthing, very slow and sleepy.

“Wet,” Monty mumbles.

Miller sniggers. “That’s what she said.”

“Oh, my god.” Monty tries to turn over and away from Miller, but Miller has him trapped with an arm around Monty’s waist. “Nate, you’re _gay_. And not in high school anymore.”

“You college types are no fun.”

Monty gasps and sits straight up in the bed, knocking Miller’s arm from around his waist. “Oh _shit_. What time is it? I have class. Fuck.”

Miller glances to the side table and says, “It’s ten minutes to eight. What time does your class start?”

Monty can feel himself start to panic. “Nine. Oh, man, I have to go home and change and shower and _shit_ —”

Miller sits up and slides his arm around Monty’s back. “Hey, I got you. What’s most important to you right now, showering or eating?”

“Showering for sure.”

“I’ll make breakfast while you shower then.”

“My clothes, though, my friends will know these are walk of shame clothes—”

Miller laughs. If not for the sun streaming through the windows, it would be the warmest thing in the room. Miller presses his mouth to Monty’s shoulder again, and Monty can feel himself relax. “You can borrow some of mine. Aren’t you the smart one?”

Monty turns to glare at him, but Monty only gets about one second of glaring before Miller leans in and kisses him. Monty should stay strong, but, well—he’s easily susceptible to kissing, especially by Miller.

Monty pushes the covers away, and he gives Miller a pointed look when Miller doesn’t move at all. “I thought you were going to make breakfast?”

“I am. I don’t want to move yet.” Monty raises his eyebrow. “I’m sore, asshole.”

“I thought you said—”

“Experienced? Yes. I just . . .” Miller gets quiet for a moment, his gaze turning to Monty’s hand on the sheets. He lightly touches his fingertips to Monty’s. “I haven’t had anyone spend the night for a long time. I haven’t spent the night for a long time.” 

It’s supposed to be a confession, and Monty knows this. So he kisses Miller, warm and slow, and says, “You could forgo making breakfast, if you want.”

Miller raises an eyebrow. “And?” 

“ _And_ join me, idiot.” 

Miller considers it for a moment, and then says, “You have to get to school. I don’t wanna make you late.”

Monty rolls his eyes as he gets out of the bed. “Don’t be arrogant,” he says, pointing his finger at Miller. “Where’s your bathroom?” Miller only smiles. “ _Nate_.” 

“Let me enjoy the view a little longer.”

Monty picks up the closest item on the floor—a flip-flop—and hurls it at Miller. Miller laughs as he ducks, but it still manages to hit him on the shoulder. 

“Jesus, down the hall, on your left,” Miller says.

Monty flips him off as he exits the room.

After Monty’s showered, he finds a pile of clothes waiting for him on the bed—some sweats, a (very) loose T-shirt, and an older Arkadia University sweatshirt that Monty shakes his head at. He follows the smell of cooking eggs into the kitchen, where Miller is half dressed—Monty spends way too long staring at his back muscles—and sits at his counter. There’s already a coffee on the table, and Monty smiles as he takes it. Miller must be paid pretty well, Monty thinks, since the apartment is nice and modern, even if it’s small. And like Raven and Monty, probably much cheaper than living in the city, since they always commute from the outskirts. 

“I hope those fit,” Miller says when he hands Monty a plate of toast and eggs. “I pretty much chose my smallest clothes, and the sweatshirt is because I thought it would be funny.”

“Hilarious.” Monty glances at the clock; he has about thirty minutes until his class, and he still has to take the metro in. “Are you going into work today?”

“Yes, but I’ll go in a little later. Bellamy won’t mind.” Miller makes a plate for himself and sits down across from Monty. Monty tries not to stare at his chest, but it’s really hard. _Really_ hard. 

Miller smirks. “You’re sure you don’t want another—”

 _Yes_ , Monty thinks, but he says very forcefully, “ _No_.” 

Miller keeps on smiling.

In the end, Monty is only five minutes late for class. Harper takes one look at Monty’s outfit and bursts out laughing.

\--

Despite being five minutes late to class (and his friend’s teasing), Monty has a very good day. He gets a better grade on the essay he’d stayed up all night finishing (a grade he’s pretty sure he doesn’t deserve, but he’ll take it). Later, in Plant Physiology, he aces a test that he’d studied for the past week, and his professor even _congratulates_ him on his grade. 

And in between every other moment, he’s thinking about Miller.

When he gets back on the train that day, the third car only has about four people in it. Monty finds Miller in the back corner, earbuds in his ears and a small smile on his face as he looks out the window.

Monty sits down next to Miller, and Miller’s smile gets bigger as he takes Monty in. Monty smiles back, warmer and happier than before, and simply watches as Miller takes out his right earbud to hand over to Monty.

Monty takes it and listens to some alternative music he doesn’t recognize, but he’s not surprised it’s what Miller listens to. 

Monty says, “Hi,” and he realizes he’s _still_ grinning. 

It doesn’t really matter, since Miller is too. “Hi.”

“Good day?” 

Miller nods, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smile that’s more knowing. “Yeah, I—yes, it was a _very_ good day. I had . . . much to think on.”

Monty feels breathless. “Me too,” he says. His cheeks hurt. 

“You too, you had a lot to think on? Or you too, you had a good day?”

“Yes. Both. All of it.”

Miller laughs. He licks his lips and slowly, but without hesitation, takes Monty’s hands in his. Monty turns his smile into Miller’s shoulder and feels at peace.

When Miller speaks, he’s so close that he barely needs to raise his voice above a whisper. “Come to mine again.”

Monty laughs. “Again? Don’t you remember my panic this morning?”

“So we’ll set an alarm.” Miller’s mouth brushes over Monty’s temple. “Your clothes are at mine anyway. We can wash those and in the morning, you’ll be wearing your own clothes to class. It works out perfectly.”

It _is_ perfect, but Monty’s getting used to that with Miller. 

Monty makes his head comfortable on Miller’s shoulder and says, “Wake me up when we get there.”

Monty imagines that Miller smiles; since his eyes are closed, all he can feel is Miller’s fingers tightening over Monty’s own and pulling them into Miller’s lap. 

\--

“Alright, first kiss.”

Monty groans. “You think I can remember that?”

“ _Ohhh_ , popular guy, were you? I can remember mine.” 

Monty shakes his head, then says, “If we’re talking just kisses in general, I think my best friend Jasper, but only when we were very young. If we’re talking real kisses, then I think it was a guy named Jackson? My junior year of high school. We were high. You?”

“In general kisses would be Bellamy, because he was drunk and lonely in high school. First real one would be my first boyfriend, Bryan. First time you had sex.”

Monty groans again and hides his face into the pillow. It shouldn’t be that embarrassing to tell your first stories to the guy you _literally_ just fucked, and whose bed you’re still in, but something about Miller’s smile is teasing and playful and Monty _is_ embarrassed. 

“Freshman year of college,” Monty says, “and it was Harper.”

“Wait—the Harper you’re always talking about? Your friend?”

“Yes. We both decided it was an enjoyable moment that we would both never attempt again.”

“Bad?”

Monty laughs. “No, definitely not. Just . . . Now that we’re so close, it’s weird that we did it at all? I don’t know how else to describe it. But I’d definitely recommend it. Oh, god, you go.”

“Ah . . . that would also be Bryan.” 

“I’m sensing a theme here.”

Miller shrugs, slightly bashful. “We were together for three years, junior year of high school to freshman year of college. He’s pretty much my first everything.”

“Oh my god! Why are we even playing this question game if all the answers are going to be him?”

“Because I want to know about you! First time you were in love.”

Monty can feel his smile slip a little. He is suddenly hyper aware of the way their legs are tangled together but they have about six inches between their chests, and how Miller has been playing with Monty’s fingers for the past fifteen minutes, and how it’s nearing one in the morning but they just continue talking to each other. It makes his chest ache. 

“I’ve . . . never. Been in love before. Or I guess I have, but it’s never been requited, you know? Like I’ve never had a first love, where we’ve dated and broken up and . . .” It’s almost painfully quiet after Monty says that, and he swears even Miller can hear his pounding heartbeat. It aches. It feels like a confession. Monty says, “I’m guessing yours was Bryan?”

Miller gives a small laugh. It’s not bitter. “Yes. And he was my first heartbreak, too.” Monty wants to move past stories of exes and past lovers, despite how funny these stories may be, and Miller must feel the same because he says, “What was it that made you take interest in me?”

Monty considers it, and then says, “I don’t really know, honestly. I’m pretty sure it’s because you’re so attractive.” Miller laughs. “Oh! Also—I thought you were attractive, and then you started wearing a beard, and _that’s_ when I was a goner.” Miller laughs even harder, his head thrown back against the pillow, and Monty’s chest _aches_. “And me?”

Still chuckling slightly, Miller says, “Your beanie.”

“My _beanie_?”

“Okay—your beanie and your dimples. But the dimples came second.”

“Why aren’t you continuing? I need a full explanation for this.” 

Miller’s fingers move to Monty’s wrist, and Monty shivers. “Okay, in high school—and pretty much my freshman year of college, too—I wore a beanie with every outfit. And I mean _every fucking outfit_ , every day. Bellamy made fun of me for it for ages, and I’m pretty sure he still has pictures of me. Eventually I got over it, but I saw you wearing a beanie and I just—it made me smile, you know? And then I noticed that the person wearing it has very nice dimples, and, as you put it, that’s when I was a goner.” Miller’s thumb sweeps across the inside of Monty’s wrist. It’s intimate, and purposeful, from the way Miller smiles when Monty shivers again.

Miller’s smile is playful again. “Tell me about a time when you wanted to have sex with me.”

“That is quite possibly the _worst_ pickup line I’ve ever heard.” 

“I’m sure you could find a way to shut me up.”

“ _Second_ worst pickup line.”

Miller moves forward and pushes Monty onto his back, Miller raised up on his forearms. Miller says, “Just kiss me already, damn it,” and Monty laughs into Miller’s mouth. 

\--

In the morning, Monty wears his clothes from two days previous to college, and Harper and Jasper only give him minimal shit for it.

Raven gives him a lot of shit—something about being an irresponsible roommate and always leaving her to have sex and completely forgetting to make her food. Monty says, “Raven, you’re my roommate, not my pet,” and Raven laughs.

Afterwards, he makes Raven chicken tacos, and they happily eat in front of another cheesy crime show. Monty thinks about the way Miller kissed him when Monty woke up that morning, the way he’d held Monty’s hand on the metro ride into the city, and how he’d muttered, “Call me tonight, okay?” when Monty left the metro car. 

Monty thinks about Miller and tells Raven, “So I, uh, may have a boyfriend.”

(“The sugar daddy?” Raven screeches.

“ _Raven, stop_.”)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it!!


End file.
